Angel's Revenge: Ingel Parri
by OmenProphecy
Summary: ACA was sending her to Hogwarts on a long term mission. That meant that it wouldn't be a quick in-and-out. Of course that meant that it would be difficult. And with her performance only ten minutes earlier, Bethany wasn't sure she was very confident in her own abilities to pull this off.
1. Chapter I

**Eternal thanks to Sparkling-Iris, for being quite the inspirational beta reader. Cheers, darlin'!**

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She was wandering, sure, but she definitely wasn't lost. No, she knew exactly where she was going; she knew this street now like the back of her hand.

Only a few meters away on the near-pristine sidewalk was her target and his child, waiting less than patiently for the shiny black car to pull up to the curb. She narrowed her eyes at the tight grip her target had on the girl's upper arm.

She didn't dare show herself, not now. Not yet.

They got in the car, the man slamming the door. There was no need to tail them, though, as she'd been doing that for the past few weeks. She knew his schedule, his identification, his address, and his secrets. She knew he hit his daughter. She knew he visited the brothel every Sunday and Wednesday.

She watched his daughter, too.

The poor girl, Elody, was a half-blood, with a witch mother that was long dead. Her father was hopelessly ignorant of even the existence of the magical world. Elody was barely eleven years old, not even having received her letter to Hogwarts yet, but she would start that year.

The child spent as much time away from the rich, luxurious house-and her father- as she could snatch. However, she was home, always, on Mondays, sitting miserably by her father at the dining table that seated several dozen.

Perhaps she chose that night because she didn't want the child to see her father finally get what was coming to him.

She consulted her watch. It was five o'clock, Sunday.

The child was due at her best friend's house.

Frank Winstead was due at the brothel.

She slipped down the street, following the familiar path to the Winstead house. She, YYY, would be waiting.

~0~

She could hear the _slip-slap_ of the door opening and closing, the jangling and rustling of keys and coats, the _squish-suck_ of rain-wet shoes on the marble, and then a muffled _thud_of every footstep on the carpet.

Even knowing exactly where he would go next, she couldn't help but tense as Frank Winstead passed the door that she was waiting behind.

The office chair in his study rolled out loudly, and then there was the sound of air escaping from the cushion under his weight.

Then, she waited for the alcohol to make an appearance.

It didn't take long.

Frank Winstead took out a bottle of vodka and a glass. He poured himself a generous amount.

"Cheers," he said, clinking the bottle and the glass together before knocking the vodka back. He opened his mouth, his tongue hanging out a bit, and let all his breath out at once.

She watched patiently as Frank Winstead drank himself silly, mildly surprised that he'd gone so far. Had anything happened in the hours he'd been gone?

That was none of her concern, anyway. Her business was in killing.

At half-past twelve, Frank Winstead stood and stumbled to his bedroom. She waited a moment before following.

YYY found him lying on top of his made bed, eyes closed and snoring thunderously. He still wore his clothes and now-dry shoes.

She took the wire from her pocket, holding it in her right hand, and approached the monster, careful not to wake him. Drunk as he may have been, he wasn't exactly dead to the world. She had to be cautious.

Then, pulling out her wand, she flicked it silently, and Frank Winstead's meaty wrists and ankles were stuck to the wooden bedframe.

The next, most important part didn't allow magic.

Wrapping the cloth-covered ends of the wire around her hands, she pressed the cool metal into his throat. He awoke when his breath started to come short, and he thrashed wildly, eyes widened with shock. Her grip never faltered or slipped, although her fingers grew damp with sweat.

Blood began leaking from around the silver, staining it a very dark red. She knew what it meant; there was no hope for him now.

The scarlet spread to the cloth covering the wire, but it beaded over it rather than soaking in. The ends were smothered in talc.

The man was making horrible choking, spluttering, and screaming sounds that YYY ignored entirely. It had never bothered her; those sounds were just the last of the dying.

And it didn't take long for Frank Winstead to die.

She remembered his child as she walked away from the Winstead house. She wondered if the child, Elody, would be sad or relieved when she found out about her father's death. Or both.

It was none of her concern. She knew that.

But she still wondered.

~0~

The message arrived that very next day, zooming through the door into her bedroom at Ingel Parri Headquarters. She was surprised; normally it took days for Command to acknowledge the success of a mission. Unfolding the tissue-paper thin parchment, she read it through swiftly.

_YYY,_

_News of your successful mission has reached my ears. Congratulations._

_Report to 8614, 20:20. There are things we must discuss._

_*CG, a*_

_Commander ACA_

She sighed in irritation. Addle was there to check up on them. Glancing at the lock on the wall, she gave a start. It was 20:09. She set off at a run. Room 8614 was clear on the other side of the building, and the last thing she needed was to be late when there was a code green.

Breathing hard, she stopped outside the door. She had only a minute to spare. The minute changed just as her hand twisted the handle, pushing the door open and stepping through.

"YYY," Commander ACA greeted calmly as the door shut behind her. "You've met Minister Addle."

She nodded stiffly.

Minister Addle was a rather squat, portly little man. His green tie, out of place with his wizard's attire, settled on his collar. One pale, meaty hand ran over it constantly. The man was nervous, and he had every right to be.

The second indication of his anxiety was the group of no less than seven Aurors. They were carefully positioned around him, but were staring around in obvious fascination. YYY didn't blame them; the office held many trophies, from rings to skulls. The cabinets on the wall on either side of the door contained the smaller objects, like jewelry and eyeballs. Towards the back were the largest objects, such as bones and swords.

"Indeed," Addle said uncertainly in a rather squeaky voice. "We have a situation."

She frowned, irritated at his wasting of their time.

ACA was annoyed, too, and decided to hurry the meeting up. "Bethany Wilder," she said.

YYY blinked a few times in confusion. The name sounded familiar, and at first she thought her Commander was telling her the target, which didn't make sense. They never spoke the names aloud.

"We have need of you at Hogwarts."

_Of you_. ACA was talking to her. Was that really her birth name? And why use it now?

But when she thought about it logically, using another name made sense. Hogwarts was a long term assignment, only given to those that were highly skilled in the arts. Of course she couldn't go by YYY. Of course she needed to use an actual name. But her real name? Was it really necessary?

"Yes, Commander," she said calmly, despite her excitement. She took the slip of paper, reading it to herself. The target's name was Tom Riddle.

Cutting across ACA's reply, the Minister spoke up again. "Well, yes. We should be clear that using your... skills..." he gulped and turned pasty, "on any other students is out of the question."

YYY already knew that. _No citizens_, she thought, amused.

ACA took the parchment from YYY, burning it in a small silver bowl on her desk.

"Yes, sir," she agreed respectfully, ignoring her wish to throttle the man. Then, she turned back to her Commander. "What's my story?"

"Bethany Wilder comes from Athel Academy, a small wizarding school in the south. She's in her sixth year." Commander ACA gave her a grim smile. "The details are up to you. You've shown talent in that respect."

"When will I leave?" she, now Bethany Wilder, asked.

Addle had been looking between the two women, his eyes darting back and forth like balls in a tennis match. Now, he decided to be useful and answer a question. "September first." He straightened self-importantly, still fingering the tie. "King's Cross Station at eleven o'clock, Platform 9 3/4."

"Do you have my ticket?" Bethany addressed the Minister, but he just gave a tiny, helpless shrug.

"Of course," Commander ACA said. "The paperwork is ready, and I have already contacted your new Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Your supplies are also already purchased. The only thing left to do is arrange Bethany's appearance, and to wait for September first."

~0~

DRB, the woman in charge of disguises, combed her long, spindly fingers through Bethany's hair, and the strands changed from black to brown. Bethany smiled faintly at the old woman.

"Thank you!" she said, grateful that her hair color was the only thing that needed changing. Her voice had had to be changed, once, and she'd hated it.

"Good luck," said DRB mechanically, nodding in farewell.

Bethany nodded back, and then left for the station.

The car trip took over three hours, which she and the driver spent in complete silence. Boredom was her worst enemy, at least after she got over her jitters.

The driver opened the passenger door even before the car came to a full stop. "Out," he ordered curtly.

She obeyed, taking her trunk with her. She didn't bother glancing back even as the sound of the gunning engine tore at her ears.

Bethany stopped to look around the station. She was in the Muggle part of King's Cross. From the stories the older members told her, she knew not to look for a Platform 9 3/4. However, she didn't know _where_ to find it.

There was Platform 9... And Platform 10. _It must be somewhere between them._

KNA, a man in his late twenties when he died, but only a young adult when Bethany knew him, was one of the last to be assigned to Hogwarts.

_You'll be next, kid, before you know it,_he'd said. Then he went on to tell her about Platform 9 3/4, and the Muggle and Wizard world having only one flimsy barrier- _a portal._

She wandered innocently over to a fallen trash can, resting her hand on it. Nothing happened.

Then again, having a fallen trash can as a portal to a secret world wouldn't be logical. Someone might come and pick it up.

Besides that, if someone were to put trash in it, there would be a stinking heap of garbage in the entrance to Platform 9 3/4.

What else was there?

Perhaps there was a Portkey? Bethany had used those before, many times. She should be looking for something that no one would want to pick up... _like that comb, with half the teeth broken._ It was dusty and grimy, almost completely blending with the ground it lay on.

Picking it up, Bethany waited for the familiar jerk behind her navel. It never came. With a sigh, she glanced at the clock- it was five minutes until she was supposed to be on the train. At the rate this was going, she would miss it. She dropped the comb, not caring where it landed.

How would it look to the Commander if her mission ended before it even really started?

Bethany stared helplessly at the space between the two platforms. What else could there be?

"Watch out! Coming through!" Two boys with trolleys filled with trunks and cages barreled toward her. With the tiniest of squeaks, Bethany threw herself out of the way.

They were headed right for the brick wall dividing Platforms 9 and 10.

Groaning at her own idiocy, Bethany watched them be swallowed by the wall, disappearing from sight.

How could she have missed it? It was painfully obvious, now.

She dragged her trunk to the wall, but before she could even touch it, she was knocked sideways through the portal by some hassled-looking Muggle woman. As far as Bethany, the woman never looked back to see if she was all right.

_Well, dammit. I'm just making one gigantic fool of myself, aren't I?_

Bethany landed on her arse in front of a sign that said in very large print, _**9 3/4.**_

Ignoring the stares she was getting, she rushed to the scarlet Hogwarts Express and yanked open a door, stepping through.

Needless to say, the hallways were packed. Bethany fought her way through the crowd, cursing the people, the train, her Commander, the weather, the Minister, and pretty much everything she could think of.

Finally reaching a compartment, even if it wasn't quite empty, was a relief. Bethany marched over to the window seat, which the others, with all their chattering, were ignoring. Then, ignoring them, she settled into 'reflection mode'.

There was something about her target that was bothering her. It was the expression on ACA's face when she handed Bethany the paper, like there were words that she'd desperately wanted to say. And worry, that was there, too. The Commander never worried about anyone- at least not that obviously. There was something wrong.

_She thinks I'm not strong enough to take this one._ Bethany bristled at that thought, unbidden but likely true.

But then common sense caught up with her. ACA was sending her to Hogwarts on a long term mission. That meant that it wouldn't be a quick in-and-out.

Of course that meant that it would be difficult. And with her performance only ten minutes earlier, Bethany wasn't sure she was very confident in her own abilities to pull this off.

Sometime as the sun began its slow sinking to the horizon, Bethany drifted to sleep. It was some time before a mousy-haired girl with a Ravenclaw insignia on her robes nervously shook her awake. Bethany tensed, but then quickly realized where she was.

"Thank you," she said over her shoulder as she left to change into her school robes.

She made her way to the bathroom, noticing the odd stares she was getting. She ran her hand over her hair, wondering if the enchantment had gone wrong. Or maybe it was something else. Normally she knew exactly what had changed- perhaps there had been something else? There had to be some reason for the stares.

Throwing open the one-person girl's bathroom, Bethany immediately sought out the mirror.

"Is something wrong?" she asked herself, but, much to her surprise, the mirror answered for her.

"I'll say! You should really do something with your hair! There's nothing _happening_ with it, it's so boring, lying flat down like that!"

Bethany took a step back. "I'll keep that in mind," she choked out.

The next two and a half minutes were spent trying to convince herself not to be too creeped out to change in the same room as that mirror. She eventually just hid herself as best she could behind the sink.

The very moment she finished pulling her hair out of her collar, Bethany darted out the door, leaving behind the talking mirror.

Hogsmeade Station was in sight very soon after she reached her seat. She waited anxiously as the train pulled in, taking an eternity and then some to stop fully.

Brakes squealing in protest, the scenery ceased moving and the doors opened to let off the passengers.

Stepping gratefully off the train, Bethany carefully observed the students around her. She immediately recognized the dark-haired boys who'd inadvertently shown her the barrier as the loudest ones of all. This time they were accompanied by two other boys, one short, pudgy, and blonde, and the other tall, scrawny, and sandy-haired. The sandy-haired one tapped his companions on the shoulder and pointed at Bethany. She perked up, listening intently.

"Haven't seen that one before. She's not new, is she?"

The other three shrugged.

"That's not very helpful," muttered the sandy-haired boy.

He turned around and walked over to Bethany, ignoring his friends' curiosity. Then he came to stand before her, sticking out his hand. "Hello," he said rather quietly. "I'm Remus Lupin."

Bethany hesitantly shook the offered hand, saying nothing.

The silence between them only grew more intense.

"And your name is...?" Remus Lupin asked finally, taking his hand back.

"Bethany," she replied.

"Ah. I'll just..." He half-turned away as though to leave, but then settled back into place, armed with a new question. "Are you new this year? I haven't seen you before, but exchange students are very rare."

"Yes. I'm new," Bethany said. "From Athel Academy."

Remus Lupin looked relieved that he finally had something to go on. "Why did you decide to come here? I've heard Athel Academy is a very fine school."

Indeed it was, but it didn't serve her purpose quite as much as Hogwarts. Not to mention that it wasn't a boarding school. "Well, my grandmother was sick for a long time, and she died a few weeks ago. My parents travel a lot, and now that I don't have a stay-in guardian, it's best I stay at a boarding school. Hogwarts is the finest in the England-Scotland area."

"Did you miss a lot of school?"

"Of course! A lot happens in a week, not to mention a month!"

And so it went on, even as they got on a carriage pulled by thestrals, even as she got her first glimpse of Hogwarts. Remus asked question after question, and Bethany had a lot of fun coming up with details. She had an uncanny ability to remember her numerous lies, so she didn't worry about inconsistencies.

Then it was Bethany's turn to ask the questions. She collected information about the staff, students, and the school itself. Quite adept at filtering the important bits from the trivialities, eventually she managed to piece together the main situation.

First, and most importantly, her target didn't attend the school, at least not anymore.

Second, there was a House system, in which the students were split into four groups. All four were heavily prejudiced against the others, the most intense rivalry by far being between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Third, it was best to avoid Slytherins in general, if you didn't want to be a complete social outcast. (Apparently the only person who could get away with this was Lily Evans, but that was only because one of the 'co-kings' of the school was 'in love' with her. Still, that whole affair was resented heavily by most of the school, at least until she'd ceased associating with him after he called her a Mudblood. It wasn't important, as far as her mission went, but it was an interesting story nonetheless.)

Fourth, it was best not to cross the 'Marauders'. Bethany snorted at the name, thinking that she already knew the kinds of people who would name themselves Marauders. The group consisted of James Potter- loverboy extraordinaire, Sirius Black- clichéd he-bitch, Peter Pettigrew- groupie guppy, and Remus Lupin himself- Captain Doormat. Apparently the first two were top of their class in duelling, according to Lupin, anyway. Bethany wasn't concerned.

As less and less important information fell from Lupin's mouth, Bethany's interest in talking to him waned. Eventually the ride was filled with silence. Fortunately, the carriage was soon stopping and allowing them to step down. Lupin offered her a hand, but she ignored it and jumped off on her own. She immediately began walking towards the main doors to the castle, leaving Lupin to recover as best he could before following her.

"See you!" he called before hurrying to catch up with the rest of the Marauders. Bethany didn't bother acknowledging him.

The group filed into the Great Hall, chattering loudly amongst themselves. By far the loudest of them were those wearing red and gold lions on their breast. Many of them were forming a crowd around none other than the four attention-seekers. Bethany's face twisted in mild irritation.

The Headmaster's piercingly blue eyes caught hers, and he gestured to a chair by the staff table. It was black and nondescript, and had a small desk-like table in front of it. There was a place set for one.

Bethany confidently strolled up to the chair as if she'd done it every day. She was finally starting to understand why she was getting odd looks from the others; she was a novelty at the school. It was a strange feeling, different but nice. She'd never really been novel before.

Sitting down without hesitation, she glanced around. There was no food anywhere. She settled back and waited for something to happen.

It came time when the doors across the room opened, revealing a group of about twenty-five nervous first years from what she could tell. The cacophony of voices subsided.

A woman who looked to be in her late thirties stood from her chair to the right of the Headmaster, went to the hall, and came back with a stool and a hat. Everyone watched as she set the stool in the middle of the open space near the front of the Great Hall, placing the hat carefully on the flat seat.

The hat was grimy and patched, with tears and stitches in most places. It looked long past its warranty, to be honest.

But then a rip near the base open wide, and the hat began to sing praises of each of the four Houses.

Bethany idly wondered which House she belonged in, curious but still indifferent.

Finally, the Deputy Headmistress unrolled a scroll of parchment and began to read names.

She was bored. The names meant nothing to her. Then the name, "Winstead, Elody!" was called, and Bethany sat bolt upright in her seat.

_Frank Winstead's daughter._Of course Bethany had known that she would start that year- it had completely slipped her mind!

_Red, red, red, staining tangy silver metal with those violent Jupiter storm clouds._

Had Elody seen her father, with the shallow mouth in his throat, the thin crimson line marring the pale skin underneath which the life had flowed?

Elody walked forward with the slightest of springs in her step, her soft brown curls bouncing behind her. She placed the tattered, worn hat on her head. Hardly ten seconds had gone by before the hat shouted, "Hufflepuff!"

Bethany settled back in her chair, clapping politely as Elody took her place at the black and yellow table.

Very soon after that, the stool and the hat were taken away.

Professor Dumbledore stood and addressed the students, old and new. "This year," he said jovially, "and for the first time in over two decades, we have an exchange student. Ms. Bethany Wilder will be joining our sixth years."

She gazed coolly back at the eyes suddenly trained on her. The chatter and whispers began again.

The Headmaster cleared his throat, and it was silent once again. "I believe that's the only thing to be said. I suspect that your bellies aren't getting any more full while we sit here jabbering away. That, we can fix!"

And then there was food on the table, everything Bethany had ever eaten and more. Eagerly, she filled her plate with what she could reach, and ate.

~0~

Before she'd even taken a step towards the doors leading away from the Great Hall, a stretched-looking man, very tall and very thin, and wearing blue robes pulled her aside. She'd seen him at the staff table. "Welcome to Hogwarts!" he said cheerfully. "You are the exchange student, yes?"

Bethany nodded. "Bethany Wilder, sir."

"Yes, yes, very nice to finally meet you! I am Professor Jedrit; I will be your Charms professor. I am also the Head of Ravenclaw House. We hope to see you there." He beamed hugely at her.

"I would be honored," she said with an answering, although much less brilliant, smile.

Professor Jedrit escorted her up to- as he explained- the Headmaster's office to be Sorted. Matching the tall man's steps only by walking quickly, as his legs made up much of his extraordinary height, Bethany twisted through the hallways with Professor Jedrit by her side. Soon enough, they'd reached a pair of stone gargoyles.

"Fudge Worms," he stated. A door slid open at the foot of a spiral staircase. "Follow me," said Professor Jedrit with that same grin on his face.

She obeyed, trailing behind him as they hiked up the stairs. The Charms professor knocked on another door at the top of the steps, and Albus Dumbledore's "Enter," came through loud and clear.

Bethany wondered how he'd gotten back to his office so quickly. They entered the room.

The inside of the Headmaster's office was cluttered with tiny silver instruments and oddities, leading Bethany's eyes all around the room. They finally landed back on the Sorting Hat, which sat innocently on top of Professor Dumbledore's desk.

"Good evening, Professor Jedrit, Ms. Wilder," he said. Bethany mumbled something akin to a greeting, keeping watch on the hat as if it might jump off the desk and bite her.

"May I...?" she asked.

"Of course," Professor Dumbledore replied, waving vaguely.

She picked up the hat cautiously, setting it on her head with even more care. A raspy voice, which she assumed was the hat, spoke in her ear.

**Bethany Wilder, then. Quite an interesting past you've got here... Excellent.**

_I'd like to hope so._

**I suppose we can already rule out Hufflepuff, especially since you murdered Elody Winstead's father. I suspect this might not be the best recipe for peace.**

_Sure. I didn't see myself there, anyhow._

**Ravenclaw is certainly a possibility. So is Gryffindor. However, nothing quite suits you like Slytherin House, my dear.**

_I have no complaints._ Bethany couldn't stop her lips from curving upwards in a smile.

"SLYTHERIN!"


	2. Chapter II

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Both professors' expressions closed off. Where before there was warmth, now there was only cold judgement. Bethany shrugged it off. It didn't matter what the people there thought; she was there only for her mission.

"That will be all." Dumbledore dismissed her, turning to Jendrit.

Bethany set the hat back down on the desk and turned away. Her pride wouldn't allow her to ask for directions to the Slytherin common room, and neither one offered.

She wandered lower and lower, the staircases fairly vibrating under her feet.

Finally, mercifully, a Slytherin Prefect turned a corner and smashed into her. They both stumbled back.

"What are you doing out here?" the other girl asked angrily, brushing invisible dust off of her robes. "It's after curfew!"

Bethany frowned. "I wasn't aware of any curfew," she lied. "I was just Sorted into Slytherin, and our Headmaster neglected to give me directions to the common room."

The Prefect nodded, understanding perfectly. Her anger seemed to have dissipated. "So you're the Bethany Wilder that we heard about at the Feast," she stated. "I'll bet he wasn't expecting a Slytherin."

"If he'd known, I doubt he would have let me in." Bethany was being unfair, and she knew it, but she was annoyed and willing to be childish.

The girl led Bethany to the lowest part of the dungeons, then stopped in front of a blank expanse of wall. "The password is Odysseus," she said. The bare stone slid to the side. "Come on."

The inside reminded Bethany very much of her room back home. The chairs were fine and soft-looking, settled around an unlit fireplace. Green lanterns lined the walls. Two sets of stairs led even further under the castle.

But most impressive were the windows. One entire wall was transparent, and Bethany could see the water of the Black Lake through it, green and teeming with life. She glided over to the glass, splaying her hand against it. It was freezing cold.

"The girl's dorms are on the left," the Prefect announced. "I'm off to sleep."

Bethany nodded absently. "Thank you," she said.

~0~

"Ah, Ms. Wilder. How nice to finally meet you. Are you liking Hogwarts so far?" Slughorn was the Head of Slytherin, a wide, rotund man. His voice mirrored his figure, loud and exuberant.

"Yes, sir," Bethany said brightly. She wasn't completely lying- the castle itself was excellent. The people, however, and especially their prejudices, made her want to slit their throats.

"I'm glad. Are you ready to start brewing? It's a very advanced potion, you know." His tone was almost patronizing, and she wanted to hit him.

Besides that, she could brew a Dreamless Sleep Potion with her eyes closed.

"Yes, sir, I think I am," she replied instead, folding her hands on top of the desk.

Resolving never to come early to Potions ever again if she could help it, Bethany watched the Potions Master waddled back to the front of the room as more students came in. An unfamiliar Slytherin boy sat next to her.

"Good morning," Slughorn said jovially to the assortment of students.

Only a few answered back.

Slughorn's smile never faltered. "I have decided to begin your first OWL-level Potions class with a practical. You didn't get here just to take notes, now did you?"

There were some murmured agreements.

"Tell me, are any of you familiar with the Dreamless Sleep Potion? Ah, Miss Evans, would you do the honors?"

Lily Evans smiled. "Yes, Professor. Dreamless Sleep Potion is an deep purple potion that, as the name suggests, allows the user to sleep without being disturbed by dreams. It is also used to help speed up recuperation. It is related to the Sleeping Draught, being very similar in ingredients and purpose. However, the Sleeping Draught is much simpler to brew, as it does not require such specific qualities in the key ingredients. Brewing the Dreamless Sleep Potion also involves remaining at a certain temperature, and then is to be chilled immediately after the last ingredient is added. After that, it must remain at room temperature or colder." Evans beamed proudly. obviously aware that it was an excellent answer.

Bethany shrugged inwardly. She should probably have been just as annoyed as the other Slytherins were, but she wasn't. _Let her be proud. Someday she'll have a real reason._

The girl smiled at a memory, flashing through her head quickly, but Bethany knew exactly what it was._ She was drawing a precise line over the woman's throat; her first kill. Well, second. ACA stood in the shadow, but YYY could still see her. The older woman nodded, smiling just a bit. That smile was worth a medal and a medal for anyone else, and YYY nodded back._

_"Congratulations, YYY." It was odd, not using her birth name, but the precisely enunciated letters gave her a thrill of pride every time it was spoken. She was part of a unit, of a cold little family that knew better than to ask silly questions or try to console her. They gave the seven-year old a way to obtain her own revenge, stepping back and letting her have control. That, more than any warmth they could have shown her, tethered her to them._

Slughorn beamed at his favorite student. "Outstanding, my dear. Five points to Gryffindor."

This drew a collective groan from the other Houses, especially the Slytherin portion. They didn't sound even half-hearted. Probably, they were resigned to their own Head of House favoring a Gryffindor.

Miss Evans seems to have covered everything. Have you all written that down? Good! So, brew away! Instructions are on the board!"

With those words, Bethany's table-mate stood and walked to what was soon proved to be the student cupboard. He collected the ingredients and came back.

She'd already set the cauldron on the fire by that time. The other Slytherin sat once more, warily, as if afraid Bethany would strike him.

"Hello," she said, perfectly content to leave it at that.

"Hello," he replied succinctly. "Severus Snape." He was introducing himself, she realized. His terseness made it clear that he was only doing so out of the barest regard for politeness.

Bethany nodded. She wasn't much for words, either.

Many times, each seemed to forget that the other was there, until they would both reach for the same thing and be reminded. Bethany double-checked everything Severus Snape did, and she found him doing the same for her. Neither trusted the other to not mess it up somehow, but every spell, stir, and slice was perfectly executed.

Still, not a single word passed between them beyond the initial greetings.

Potions, for Bethany, had a similar effect on her as a mission. In both instances, she would settle into the _rightness_ of it, the natural instinct.

While brewing, she would be completely at peace, every motion feeling like just a gesture for the end result. Every time, she felt as if the potion would mold to her wishes, that adding powdered peppermint canceled out the undesirable side-effects of dried sea slug because she _wanted _it to.

The missions allowed her release. Where brewing calmed her, the killings sped up her heart, sent adrenaline rushing through her, made her giddy and high on the thrill.

Duelling and brawls were possibly her favorite. She could draw it out, that way- first bruises, a cut on their shoulder, then, finally, shoving the nose into their brain, or choking them, or just letting them bleed out.

Rarely did she kill without blood showing somewhere. The monsters looked far better with grey, ashy skin and red-soaked clothes. The terror that was always frozen in their expressions didn't hurt, either. Her, anyway.

"Ah, Severus. Did you let Miss Wilder do _anything_?" Slughorn's amused face hovered above them.

"Yes, sir."

"So you let her start the fire?" the Potions Master chuckled.

Severus Snape shook his head. "She was helpful," he clarified, so grudgingly it was practically a growl.

The professor clapped him on the back. "Either way, this potion deserves an O. The color is just perfect. Not any less than I would expect from you, Severus."

Bethany smirked, not at all minding Slughorn's refusal to believe that she'd had more than the slightest hand in the potion's success.

The class ended very soon after, and both sixth years' only acknowledgement of their shared accomplishment was a nod in each other's direction.

~0~

Remus Lupin approached her in the very next class, Care of Magical Creatures. Bethany forced a smile on her face.

She'd realized that being rude to him the day before had been a very big mistake. The Marauders did rule the castle, as far as the hierarchy went. She needed a way in, and Remus Lupin was her best option.

"Hey, Bethany," he said. Did he know that Potter and Black were staring after him?

"Hello," she said pleasantly, leaning just a bit closer. "What are you doing over here? I thought you were the one that said to avoid Slytherins."

_Make him try to apologize. He'll do his best to smooth it over. I'll forgive him._

Lupin shifted from foot to foot. "Look, I'm sorry about that... I just... well, I want to be your friend. I know you're not evil, or anything."

"Like a normal Slytherin? Is that what you're saying?" Bethany's tone was intentionally sharp, and she knew he would crack.

"No! That's-"

"What you meant. Yeah, I know."

"I'm sorry! I really didn't mean it that way. Please, I'm sorry!" Lupin's face was panicked.

She was disappointed that it had not taken more to reduce him to pleading, pathetic goo. Just a few angry words, and he collapsed?

Bethany sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Fine. I forgive you." His expression instantly changed to one of relieved delight. "And here's your opportunity to prove yourself."

His head whipped around. There, stalking angrily towards the pair, was the Clichéd He-Bitch.

"Pads, it's-" Lupin started.

"Get away from him, you snake!" Black shouted, instantly drawing the attention of the entire class. Kettleburn looked like he wanted to break it up, but eventually turned his cheek.

Irritated, Bethany stood her ground. She knew that the professor would be no help. "Are you referring to me, Black?" she asked coldly.

"It's all right, Padfoot," Lupin insisted, albeit weakly.

Black ignored him, focusing entirely on Bethany. "No, the tree over there," he said sarcastically. "Yes, you."

"That's too bad. I'd rather hoped I wouldn't be judged for at least another day," Bethany sniffed over-theatrically. "It's my first day, and you already assume I'm a Death-Eater whore, huh?"

Black didn't say anything, but she read the answer in his expression.

"Thanks a lot," she said scathingly. She would rather have said something worse, but she didn't need Lupin to change his mind so soon.

"First day or not, you're still an evil bitch, and I don't want you anywhere near my friends! You're plotting something, you fucking snakes always are! Take your shit somewhere else!" Black exploded.

As much as she wanted to retort, she forced a tolerant smile onto her face and turned away. "Goodbye, Remus," she threw over her shoulder. Then, just to annoy Black, she added, "I'll see you in Arithmancy."

Completely ignoring Black's loss of composure behind her, Bethany walked to the other end of the yard.

Kettleburn cleared his throat. "Class?" he said. Attention returned to him, but there were still glances and even stares at the two Gryffindors and the Slytherin.

Bethany knew she would catch shit from the other Slytherins for trying to befriend a Gryffindor, and worse, a Marauder. She would deal with that when it came up, she decided.

After class, which was only marginally shortened by the small argument she and Black had engaged in, Bethany walked with sure steps to the Great Hall for lunch. Opening the doors, her eardrums nearly popped with the sound.

_I swear, I'll be deaf by the end of this mission,_ she thought.

Bethany stopped in front of the Slytherin table. There was a bit of space for her at the end, but that was it. The others had condensed, so that she would be left isolated.

It would be in stages, Bethany guessed. First, she would be shunned. Then, a single person would be sent to tell her what a bad idea being friends with a Gryffindor was. If that didn't work, she would be made an example of.

_Sounds like fun,_ Bethany thought, amused. This carried through onto her expression, lending an air of confidence. It wouldn't do to let them believe she was weak.

So she sat at the spot, aware that she was not reacting the way they expected.

The table ate in relative silence. It seemed that much more like home to Bethany; her suppers were usually spent alone, in her room. It was the way nearly everyone there seemed to like it.

Remus Lupin jogged up to her before she could quit the Hall. "Walk with me?" he asked anxiously. Bethany knew that the real question was, "do you forgive me?"

"Yes," she replied, to both questions, and the Gryffindor beamed.

Bethany pitied him as he started to jabber away into her ear. She hoped that one day he would grow out of his incessant chatter, for her sake if nothing else.

Upon reaching the Arithmancy classroom, their one-sided conversation stopped.

"See you later?" Lupin asked.

"Sure," Bethany shrugged.

~0~

It was weeks later when the first phase of Bethany's punishment was through. The Slytherins were spread out once more, giving her room to squeeze in. If they expected glee or relief from her, they were dead wrong. She settled into her place with the same stony face that Slytherins prided themselves on.

That was also the day Severus Snape spoke to her beyond an introduction. Well, perhaps not _to_ her. It was more like _at_ her. His eyes certainly weren't on Bethany's.

"You seem more intelligent than most Hufflepuffs," he said, staring down at the dried belladonna he was crushing.

At first, Bethany was confused. "I like to think so," she she said dryly.

"So you know well enough that hanging around Gryffindors is a bad idea."

She considered saying no, making him explain the whole ridiculous situation, but decided against it. "Mmm," was her clever response.

"Whatever possessed you to aggravate our House?" Snape's tone was incredulous, but he still wasn't looking at her.

"I need them. I can't very well get far in Slytherin when everyone else has these idiotic prejudices," Bethany growled, hoping Snape wouldn't notice that her tone was mostly affected.

Snape didn't say anything else for a moment, and Bethany took it to mean that he was going to leave her alone. However, his dark eyes finally focused on her, and he said, softer, "What's the real reason?"

_Does he really expect me to answer him, just like that?_ No. He wasn't stupid.

"I told you," Bethany replied. And really, wasn't it the truth? Not the whole truth, certainly, but true enough. The best lies usually contain some of the truth.

"Fine," he said, somehow managing _not_ to sound like a spoiled child.

"You haven't put in the lionfish spines yet, have you?" Bethany asked, to change the subject.

"No, I'm working on the pufferfish eyes. They're interchangeable."

"Good. I'll stir, you add."

"Fine."

Bethany grasped the ladle and turned it towards the center of the cauldron, stirring clockwise at a slow speed. Snape dropped the spines in one by one, the color changing every time a new one was added. When the small pile of spines was gone, the potion had turned a sky blue.

"What properties do you think they have that make them interchangeable? Perhaps they come from the same area?" Bethany tilted her head to the side while cooling the potion slightly.

"More likely it has to do with the presence of spines." Snape added the crushed belladonna, the last ingredient, and watched as the potion turned bright red, the final stage.

"I hadn't thought of that," Bethany admitted. "Maybe the presence of spines, indicating the need for defense, isn't the only sign? Perhaps there's also a natural poison or magic necessary for the potion that can be found in both the lionfish spines and the pufferfish eyes?"

"That sounds plausible, but it may be that both are treated with magic or poison, a kind that works well with both of them."

"I see. That theory involves having other similar properties, possible properties being removed, or being without possible properties," she pointed out.

Class ended with Slughorn calling, "Bottle your potions and put them on my desk. After that you're dismissed."

Snape waved his wand, and a tiny portion of the potion was transferred to the flask in his hand. Another wave and the remaining contents of the cauldron were Vanished.

"Thanks," Bethany said, already leaving.

Severus Snape looked after her, frozen for moment. Then he wrote both of their names on the flask, and set the it down on Slughorn's desk.

He wished that she'd been straight with him. She would be forced to be straight with the discipline group.

~0~

Bethany sighed her way to Charms. Jedrit, the idiot, still looked and acted warily and contemptuously around his Slytherin class, but especially her. Their work was never good enough for him, even when it was the best. It was always "James Potter" this and "James Potter" that. Bethany was tired of hearing about James Potter, and Lily Evans, and Remus Lupin, especially since there were several prodigies in Hufflepuff and Slytherin, not just Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, that were forced to make way for the Houses known for their magical prowess.

She whispered through the door, early despite the considerable distance between the dungeons and the Charms classroom.

Jedrit looked up. "Miss Wilder," he said, more of a challenge than a greeting.

_I haven't done a single damn thing to you. Hide your judgement a little better, if you would,_ _**sir.** _

Nodding coolly back at the Charms professor, Bethany chose a seat and stared stonily at the board. The other Slytherins filtered in, painfully slowly. It hadn't only been five minutes, had it?

"Settle down," Jedrit finally called, though there wasn't much 'settling down' to be done. The one, whispered conversation near the back didn't even pause.

Jedrit ignored them. "I trust you are all familiar with the Baubillius Charm?"

The group nodded once it became clear that Jedrit wouldn't continue without confirmation.

"Today we will be expounding on this. While the Baubillius Charm is relatively harmless, this next spell is fairly recent and can seriously hurt whoever it is cast upon." He looked as if he'd rather be telling this to anyone but them, a class of capable and malicious sixth year Slytherins. Bethany wanted to beat him over the head with her chair.

"The incantation is 'Dissilividro'. Watch." He whipped his wand at the front wall, and everyone watched as several glass baubles shattered against it. It was obviously no ordinary glass, however, because the shards carved deep scratches into the wall.

Jedrit seemed pleased with the results. He faced the Slytherins with a smile, one that quickly turned into a grimace when he remembered who he was addressing. "This spell is never, ever to be performed on a person or animal," he warned. "I wouldn't be showing this spell at all if it weren't on the Charms standards. Doesn't belong on the school curriculum, if you ask me." Jedrit seemed unaware that his warning would only make them more interested.

_Have to hand it to him, though_, Bethany thought. _He does love his subject._

The Head of Ravenclaw called for attention. "I will call each of you up one by one to try the spell. Don't worry if you don't get it right the first time; it's a very advanced spell."

_Are you _trying _to sound stupid?_

Avery was the first to be called. He stood and moved to the front, as indicated by Jedrit. "Dissilividro," Avery intoned, moving his wand almost lazily. Of course, the spell worked. The shattering was even louder to Bethany's ears, the gouges even deeper than Jedrit's had been.

In any other crowd, there would be at least one person mumbling about 'showing off'. Here, though, they all knew better. They'd been sent to the Hospital Wing for less.

And it wasn't as if Avery had had a choice. Jedrit had been completely full of shit when he said 'not to worry if they didn't get it right the first time'. They all knew better, even Bethany. If Avery hadn't done it perfectly, or he'd seemed to actually expend effort, it would have been seen as weakness, and the last thing any of them needed was to show weakness. Especially Avery, who was feared, respected, and loathed in equal measure.

Jedrit went through the list, finally stopping at Bethany's name. His tone was hesitant as he called, "Wilder...?"

Bethany didn't miss the smirks on her peers' faces.

Standing in the same place as everyone before her, she spoke the incantation and snapped out her wand in a sharp movement. The same large balls flew from the tip of her wand and struck the wall, adding her own set of slashes there. Hers, though, went the opposite way as everyone else's. The scratches were like a tiger's compared to a cat's, deeper and longer. More lethal.

She walked calmly back to her seat, knowing that she appeared perfectly serene and unaffected, when she'd really put as much as she could get away with into that one spell. It wasn't much, but more than the others had used.

Why? Because that was the beginning of her seduction. The best way to gain followers was to be more powerful than anyone else, and if she was going to charm the school, she would have to do it fast.


	3. Chapter III

**Thanks to Ninjastic for being the first follower.**

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_His hands were on her neck, but she barely felt it. The cuts were everywhere, soft and sweet and lovely. They were painful, yes, agonizing._

_He was choking her now. Her own father, knee pressed up under her rib cage, holding her down. The heat trapped in place inside her body, the rush and flow of adrenaline coursing through her._

_Normally, she would have just curled up and let it happen, let him hurt her. Normally, he would leave her there once he was done, curled up and wondering where death was. If that _**_was_**_ death._

_This was the worst he'd ever done, but it didn't hurt anymore. Not the way it should, like he was destroying her, not just killing her._

_Maybe she'd always been fascinated with blood, she didn't know. But she discovered it then, as her fingernails closed onto his wrist hard enough to tear open the skin._

_And then what should have been pain became a song to her, intensifying the smell of the hunt. The anticipation on her tongue, dancing through her, fitting inside her veins just right. All it took was that little well of blood on his wrist, and she went mad._

_Her father was pressing harder on her windpipe, until she couldn't breathe at all. Stars danced in front of her eyes. All the pain in the world was hers, now, and it was exhilarating._

_She died, then, first just a heartbeat missed, then two, then three. The silence in her chest didn't faze her. Nothing could faze her in that moment, because every single agony of living was gone. It felt good. Better than good. Better than anything._

_He stepped away, smiling just a bit. She could still see him. Her vision wasn't gone yet._

_Her blood, which had started to run cold, heated back up again, because _**_there! _**_There it was again, her heartbeat. _

_The pain returned, but it was more of a buzz, effectively clearing her mind. She lifted her head experimentally. So she could move._

_It turned out, though, that she didn't have to move to make the first slash._

_Her father's robes were suddenly drenched, dripping with a heavy scarlet. There was a distinct line on his neck. The look of shock on his face as he fell forward made her feel warm._

_She trailed her fingers absently through the flood, reveling in the feel of it, still hot. Holding her hand up, she examined it under the dim light barely illuminating the hall. She looked beautiful in blood._

Bethany thought that it must have been pretty strange, looking back fondly on her death. She couldn't help it, though, making comparisons. Because there she was, blood coating her hands once again.

The woman at her feet was obviously terrified. "Are you going to kill me? I have money, whatever you want, it's yours!"

She looked down her nose at Carla Poll. "I don't want your money." The woman looked exponentially more hysterical. "How is your little boy?"

"You want him? Have him, take him, just let me live!"

"No. Either he stays with your aunt, or you die. Take your pick." Bethany fingered the main cut, on the woman's arm, ignoring the little scream of pain.

"I'll take him to Aunt Mona right away, please!"

"Make it so."

And Bethany turned around and left, continuing through Hogsmeade as if nothing had happened, feeling the usual disappointment. She hated leaving a job unfinished.

A silent spell cleaned off the red, and Bethany slipped back into Hogwarts.

~0~

They were Slytherins, so of course they had no qualms about ambushing her.

She hadn't turned in time, and the Petrificus Totalus hit her square in the back. Her arms and legs snapped together rigidly. She fell backwards, her head cracking against the stone floor.

Bethany could make out Mulciber's face through her swimming vision. "We warned you," he said, in a cheerful sing-song voice.

Immediately, Bethany's mind began racing, trying desperately to think her way out of this.

Someone's hand- she couldn't see whose- slipped into her pocket, searching for her wand. Miraculously, it wasn't there. Bethany had seen it roll behind a suit of armor when she fell.

Mulciber cursed in frustration, contrasting almost completely with his attitude when things were going his way. He drew his foot back and harshly kicked Bethany in the ribs.

"Hey, hey, hey! Watch it!" a second voice rang out. "We're only supposed to collect information. Not break her fucking ribs!"

"And what if we need to break her ribs to get information?" Mulciber asked quietly.

Were they broken? Yes, Bethany had heard the crack. _Two,_ she thought, _just two. _It was painful, but not nearly as much as it should have felt. She'd died before; what was this to the bliss of dying?

The second voice sighed. "She's not moving, especially not her jaw. What information do you expect to collect like that?"

Obviously choosing to ignore this, Mulciber barked, "Find her wand!"

Several scrambling noises were heard. Then there were hands going through her clothing. Someone tore off her cloak, exposing her to the biting draft. Another ripped open her robe, and yet another uncurled her fists.

"It's not on her," one finally declared. The others agreed.

"_Dammit_," Mulciber hissed.

Bethany wondered when they would think to just Summon her wand.

"It doesn't matter," the second, unknown boy said, "as long as she doesn't have it."

Mulciber kicked her again, this time in the stomach. The force of the air coming up tore at her throat, because she still couldn't just open her mouth and cough her lungs out.

Avery spoke up for the first time. He'd been standing just outside of Bethany's field of vision, but now he stepped forward so she could see him. He knelt down next to Bethany's prone body, balancing on the balls of his feet. "Listen up, bitch. It's about time you learn the rules. First, don't disobey. Second, don't become a Gryffindor whore. Third- what's third, Black?"

There was a pause, then, "Know your place," finished Black quietly with a hint of steel, his hair falling in front of his face so Bethany couldn't see it.

A familiar tingling in Bethany's fingers and toes began as the spell wore off, and she found that she could move them. She tried not to let the other Slytherins notice.

"Got it?" Mulciber asked. "Can you speak yet? Answer me, bitch!"

Bethany couldn't have even if she wanted to. The pins-and-needles sensation was spreading, but her jaw still wouldn't open. Her arms obeyed her, now, as did the lower halves of her legs.

Hearing but not listening to the words the unknown voice was saying, Bethany registered Avery pressing his hand down on the broken ribs. She couldn't decide whether it was painful or not.

"I'll just do this until she screams, eh, Mulciber?"

Her jaw was finally back under her control! "You forget yourself, Avery," Bethany remarked calmly. "You can't afford to have me screaming in this part of the castle. Either move it or cast a Silencio, I don't really care which. If you're going to do an ambush, at least be intelligent about it. You're all Slytherins, for Merlin's sake!"

Perhaps she'd overdone the condescension a little bit, but maybe that was for the best. The plan had finally come to her, and it was a relief. It felt good to be back in control of the situation.

Avery's face was downright murderous. Beyond murderous. He had two choices, neither of which would end well for him: either he could follow her orders, or he could ignore them and risk bringing the consequences down on all of their heads. His authority would suffer from both.

He chose both, in a way only a true Slytherin could. "Just tell me," he said in a dangerous tone, "what rule you've broken, and why."

"None of them," Bethany replied.

It occurred to her that the picture they made was an odd one. A single girl lying flat on her back, calm as a corpse, and several older boys, looking as if they wanted to kill her. A giggle almost escaped her.

"Gryffindor _whore_," Mulciber spat. "How else would you say it?"

"I don't see how this is any of your _concern_," Bethany hissed. "I won't let you and your bumbling interfere with my _plan_!"

She was dropping hints left and right, wasn't she? If they deserved their reputation at all, this group would pick them up, possibly piece them together.

Mulciber's wand was out now, and Avery's hand was twitching.

Bethany knew she shouldn't push them any further, but she couldn't resist one final jab. "Control yourselves, both of you," she ordered. "No Crucios in the hallway."

The first round of Crucios reminded Bethany of the Optional Pain Endurance course Bethany had taken during her training. She'd chosen the Cruciatus Curse, simply because it was the worst kind of pain she would ever encounter. Bethany had wanted to be prepared, sure, but mostly she wanted to feel the bliss again, the pain-that-didn't-hurt.

So the man cast it on her, soft at first, or as soft as the Cruciatus could be. It was blinding, agonizing, burning and freezing all at once. She'd wondered if that was what Heaven felt like.

By the end of that first session, Bethany had had four spells on at once. She'd almost lost consciousness, the buzz was so strong.

Of course, Bethany had been wrong. What she was feeling now was so much more intense: pure, fiery hate, concentrated into more and more red lights connecting with her body.

They obviously expected her to scream, to cry, yet she was smiling.

When the wonderful pain subsided, the boys looked grudgingly impressed. Except for Black, however, who looked pale and horrified.

"Are you _trying_ to get yourselves thrown into Azkaban?" Bethany asked rhetorically through her panting and gasping. "Are you all selectively deaf? Or just Gryffindors in disguise?"

~0~

Bethany stumbled her way to the common room. Her leg was broken, yes, but she could fix that. Her ribs, too, she could heal. As for the burns and cuts, no one would ever get a chance to see them. So, really, she wasn't worried. She'd been hurt much, much worse before, and she'd managed to heal it then.

The pain itself wasn't a problem, either. It was a warm tingling, sharp and pleasant. Bethany felt alive, and at the same time, like she was sleepwalking.

Carefully avoiding the boy curled up, asleep, in an armchair, Bethany made her way down the stairs to the dormitory.

"Sanceli," she murmured, settling on her four-poster, flicking her wand at the leg. It took a moment to work. Her teeth clenched tightly as the bone pulled back into place and melded back together. Her hand clutched at the bedspread. Healing pain was always the worst kind for her, the only kind that truly hurt her.

She froze when she heard one of the girls snort in her sleep.

"Sanceli," Bethany whispered again, so quietly she could barely hear herself. Her wand was pointed at her chest, and she tried to hide the light that the spell produced.

This time she could hardly keep from screaming as her ribcage repaired itself. Bethany spent a moment just waiting, gasping, for the agony to subside.

The gashes and burns all over her were much easier to fix. All discoloration faded back into the normal cream, and all she felt was a slight itch.

Bethany closed the curtains around her bed, and with a whispered "Lumos" she pulled out a pile of books. She began to read.

In the wee hours of the morning, she had finished the last of them. Not a single one even mentioned Tom Riddle. Bethany hadn't expected it to be that easy, but she was still disappointed.

She showered quickly, dressed, and went down for breakfast. Bethany was looking forward to the game she would be playing with these children.

_Children,_ she thought. Of course they were. And still, they would use that spell- an Unforgivable, one that could land them in Azkaban- on someone they knew nothing about. Bethany had _never_ been that careless.

She'd never fully been a child, though, had she? At least, not after her father. Not since she became a member, no, she hadn't.

Bethany sat in the middle of the table, her position from then on. They would accept her as queen, hopefully without argument.

There were no comments, which she'd expected.

The group that had ambushed her the night before met her eyes continually. Avery especially seemed to be daring her to tell. Her only response was a slight quirk of her lips, undetectable unless you were looking for it. Which everyone was.

Slytherin was deadly silent. Not a single person spoke.

_Do you all understand?_ Bethany imagined saying. _Do you realize that I'm already on the throne?_

~0~

"I did warn you," said Severus Snape at their next Potions class.

"I know you did." Bethany tilted her head to the side. She set down the knife she was using to slice the jumping toadstool on the table. "But it wasn't necessary. I'm well able to take care of myself."

He raised his eyebrows. "Mulciber told me that they broke most of your ribs and your leg, and you say you can take care of yourself?"

"You don't see any broken bones, do you?"

"Hmm. One would think you would endeavor to avoid breaking them at all."

"One would think that, wouldn't they?" Bethany added the toadstool, and then watched the potion turn a sickly yellow color.

Snape gave her a dirty look over their cauldron. "You're being vague," he stated. "Why?"

"That's for me to know, and you to wonder." Bethany grinned now.

He almost smiled back, very nearly.

But not quite.

~0~

That weekend she snuck out of Hogwarts again. Bethany knew Hogsmeade now like the handle of her knife. She stole down the streets like a ghost, then passed around the Hog's Head to an abandoned shop. Behind there, in an alley, was WGL.

"Thanks for coming," he said, nervously wringing his hands, his eyes flitting around cautiously.

Bethany waved a hand. "I've been meaning to come out, anyway. You said your mission was…?"

WGL was one of the newer members of Ingel Parri. He also lacked confidence, and, if he hadn't greatly improved since she'd seen him last, expertise. He had been right to call for help.

He looked down. "Commander gave me two," he whispered, ashamed at his weakness. "I'm not that strong. Not for two."

"Give me information," Bethany commanded. She couldn't coddle him- for it _had _been weakness, cowardice, to ask for help. She knew she would never allow anyone to assist her. If the mission was hers, she would go through with it, no matter what.

"Brothers," WGL said. "Same house, here in Hogsmeade. We've been waiting for them to finally kill one of the kids, so we could send someone after them. The more experienced are out on missions, so Commander was forced to assign them to me."

Bethany shrugged. "You're out of nappies now, can't keep you inside forever. Lead on."

It didn't take long before the assassins arrived at a narrow two-story house. It was painted dark brown, even the windows.

"Where are they?" she asked.

"Inside," WGL said a bit too loudly, his face grey. Bethany hushed him and edged around the house.

There was a window to the basement on the backside of the house. Bethany pulled out a Muggle paper clip and stuck it into the lock. She jiggled it around for a bit before there was a soft clicking sound, and she swung the window open.

The pair slid through the opening, one after the other. They dropped into an unlit room. Bethany felt carpet beneath her feet, cushioning her landing. The other, however, wasn't as lucky, and splayed out on top of a wooden table. She froze, listening intently. WGL's landing had been much noisier than hers.

He jumped off onto the carpet, and Bethany wondered briefly how he was even qualified for a uni-mission. The boy was clearly hopeless.

WGL began to lead the way out of the room, and Bethany let him. He led her up some stairs and down a hall, and was just about to move into what Bethany figured was the living room when Bethany saw the darkness shift.

"Wait!" she hissed, moving to grab his arm and yank him back. WGL reacted too late, and stepped forward, just as the lights turned on. Bethany let her hand drop. It was all up to him now.

"Step out!" called a hoarse voice. Two men came into the center of the room, both holding guns. A couch stood between the pairs.

WGL did so immediately, his face completely drained of blood.

Bethany sighed in exasperation. _That little chickenshit_.

The boy assassin stepped into the room, as directed, quaking in his boots. She rolled her eyes. It was just guns; it wasn't as if they couldn't easily trick them out of shooting.

Bethany noticed with no little relief that they hadn't yet noticed her. She edged around the room, intent on slipping behind the brothers.

WGL's eyes locked on her, his mouth open. Bethany barely ducked out of the way of the first shot. She hid behind a cabinet, not at all confident that she would remain unfound.

"Coward!" one brother called. Her mouth clenched tight, but she didn't move out of her hiding spot.

"Come out, little pansy!"

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

The brothers kicked their way towards her location. She held her breath, hoping desperately for a miracle. After all, she couldn't move from behind there, or she would be caught for sure.

Fortune was evidently not on her side that night.

Bethany tried kicking out, but she was surrounded. She tried taking advantage of the fact that they each had to juggle her flailing limbs and a gun, but to no avail.

She registered one of them swearing, and a surprised, "A girl?"

Eventually, she managed to fling herself away, clipping one brother in the chest with her boot. Instinctively, Bethany landed in a crouch, one hand on the floor, the other fumbling for her wand. Not finding it, she looked around to see the tip under the couch.

_I really need to invest in a wand holster,_ she had time to think before the guns were raised once more. This time, though, they were pointed at her. WGL stood off to the side, having found his way to the corner. _Idiot boy_. The brothers had apparently decided that he wasn't a threat. Bethany was all for the element of surprise, but she had to admit that they weren't wrong in their assessment.

An idea struck Bethany, and she immediately let her face soften into that of a frightened child. "Please," she said, "we'll leave now and never come back, please! Just don't shoot me."

It seemed to work on one brother, the elder, and he nudged the younger.

"No," snapped the younger harshly.

"She can't be older than fourteen," said the other uncertainly.

Bethany caught sight of her reflection in a glass cabinet- it was true. She looked years younger when her expression was so vulnerable.

"And we've killed younger!"

This went on, and Bethany watched carefully, letting out a tremble every few seconds. She hadn't expected it to be this easy; apparently these two got very absorbed in their sibling spats.

She palmed her knife and her wire, waiting for just the right moment.

Aiming carefully, Bethany let the knife fly into the chest of the younger, who was the immediate threat.

The elder had good reflexes, she would grant him that. He shot at her, but his accuracy was off, and the bullet zoomed into the wall a few feet to her left. Bethany jumped to the right, and he shot at her again. This time it grazed her side, but she didn't even acknowledge the blood or pain- not that either had ever been a problem for her. Bethany flew forward, around his back, and flung her arms in front of his neck. In one swift movement, she pulled the wire tight, and neatly severed his head from his neck.

Her eyes moved to the corner where she'd last seen WGL, but he wasn't there. Searching the house, Bethany discovered that he had fled. She growled, allowing some of her irritation to mingle with the air and spread to the four winds.


End file.
